Levi didn’t remember when Christmas started to irritate him—only that it always had. Loud crowds. Forced cheer. Decorations that collected dust. And celebrating any of it inside the Survey Corps headquarters felt… wrong. People died. Walls fell. Humanity fought to breathe. What was there to toast?

So of course he volunteered for patrol tonight.

Of course he preferred the cold and the quiet to the heat of celebration.

What he didn’t expect was you being assigned with him.

Another captain. Someone who’d survived the same horrors, stood beside him in blood and smoke, shared midnight strategies, silent rooftop watches, and the kind of trust that grew only between people who’d saved each other more than once.

Walking with you was the rare kind of silence he didn’t hate.

And when he realized it would be just the two of you out here tonight, something warm and unwelcome curled low in his chest.

He ignored it.

Or tried to.

By evening, snow dusted the streets in soft white layers. From the windows of the headquarters behind you, faint music and drunken laughter spilled into the night. But out here? Only wind, boots crunching against stone, and the steady rhythm of your breath beside him.

Suspiciously pleasant.

Levi kept stealing quick glances—cataloguing stupid little details he had no business noticing. A stray snowflake melting on your lashes. The way your scarf brushed your jaw. The tiny curl of your breath in the cold air.

His voice broke the quiet.

“Why aren’t you inside? Celebrating with the others.”

You didn’t look at him—just smiled slightly, eyes tracking snowfall.

“I am celebrating,” you said, your tone warm, amused.

“Just choosing better company.”

Something in him stuttered. He forced his eyes forward.

You didn’t stop.

After a few more steps, your voice returned.

“And you? Patrolling on Christmas night?”

A teasing lift of your brow. “Let me guess—you just love festive spirit.”

“Tch.” He snorted softly. “I love not listening to idiots singing off-key. This is better.”

A beat.

His voice dropped.

“...And you don’t complain.”

You huffed a quiet laugh that hit him harder than it should’ve.

But you were already walking ahead, snow catching in your hair.

He followed, still shaken, and watched as you pulled a flask from under your cloak. You took a slow sip, cheeks warming, then extended it toward him without a word.

There were rules.

He broke them.

The wine was warm, sweet, heavy.

He felt it slide through him, loosening something inside his chest.

You walked side by side, sharing the flask in quiet intervals, the world soft around you—snow falling in slow, endless sheets, muffling everything but your steps.

Then the city bells rang midnight.

You turned your head at the sound—

Your boot slipped.

Levi reacted before thought existed.

His hand caught your waist, the other gripping your wrist, pulling you against him. Your breath rushed out, white against his collar. Your palms pressed against his chest. You were close. Too close.

He didn’t let go.

You didn’t pull away.

Your eyes lifted to his, wide, steady, warm.

Snow gathered in your hair.

His pulse hammered.

“Careful,” he murmured, voice low, rougher than he intended. “Idiot.”

But he didn’t step back.

Something electric held him there—wine, cold, years of buried tension, the faint scent of you, the warmth he pretended he couldn’t feel.

His thumb brushed your waist before he could stop it.

You looked up at him the same way you did after battles—alive, unbroken, unafraid.

And something inside Levi snapped loose.

He leaned in slowly—close enough to feel your breath, close enough to see snow melting against your lips. His heart punched against his ribs, but he didn’t care anymore, didn’t think, didn’t restrain.

He kissed you.

Not hesitant.

Not careful.

A real kiss—deep, fierce, unguarded, as if he’d been holding it back for years.

Your fingers curled into his coat.

He dragged you closer by the waist, tasting warmth and wine and everything he shouldn’t want.